


Jack, Ianto, and the Kama Sutra

by CaseyF



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gifts, M/M, employee benefits, minimal plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyF/pseuds/CaseyF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title rather says it all, really.  Well, perhaps there's a play on words in there somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack, Ianto, and the Kama Sutra

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2012.

Jack, Ianto, and the Kama Sutra

Owen shuffled in carrying a gift bag and sporting a shit-eating smirk.  Presenting Jack with the bag, he announced that as their august leader refused to divulge the big secret of the date of his birthday, Owen was giving Jack a birthday gift on a random day, so take that and cheers if he liked it and sod off if he didn’t.

“Thanks, Owen,” Jack said a bit warily, dipping into the bag and pulling out a massive folded sort of book thing, which he opened to reveal –--poster-sized images of people having sex.  Many many photos of people doing all sorts, most of them decidedly naked, the guys sporting big dicks and the women various physical enhancements. 

“It’s the Kama Sutra!”  Owen explained, proud as punch, “the porn star poster version.  C’mon, there’s nothing that says “Jack Harkness” better than that!”

Ianto just shook his head.  Was that truly how Owen saw Jack?  Sure, Jack was a flirt, but he didn’t sit around watching porn more than any other guy, nor pick his sexual partners based on the silly stereotyped version of “hot” that some parts of this planet saw as the gold standard.  Jack looked mildly put out but also slightly intrigued, peering closely at some of the images.

Both Gwen and Tosh were hooting and hollering at the absurdity of the women in the pictures.  Ianto had to agree:  it was hard to find eroticism in something so overt and over the top.  Well, perhaps it was just him, perhaps he was odd in preferring a bit of romance or titillation that involved more than tits and pricks and pussies .....

After things settled down a bit, Ianto found Jack in the archives taking a key to the lock of a cabinet Ianto had never been in.  True, he’d been somewhat affronted to learn that none of the keys he had fit the door.  He’d considered surreptitious means to glean a key or other means of entry, but decided Jack’s trust, so tested in the past, was too precious to waste for mere curiosity’s sake.

“Jack,” he said softly, not wanting to startle his boss, his lover.

“Hmm?”  Jack looked over his shoulder and smiled, no sign that he was up to something covert on his face.  “Ianto, come help me for a sec, would you?  I forgot how much crap there was in here.”

Approaching, Ianto peered into the cupboard, seeing piles of books, rolled up posters, stacks o f CDs, videotapes, some of what he would swear were folios from the nineteenth century, not to mention a couple beach towels and some T-shirts featuring filthy slogans and even one with what appeared to be a photo of an orgy.  Jack was holding back a pile of books that was threatening tumble out, so Ianto scrunched in under his arms and started reorganizing.

“What is all....” he began, voice trailing off as his brain processed just what it was that his hands were touching. 

Over and over his eyes saw “The Kama Sutra” printed on book spines, on covers, on packages, in fonts large and small.  Some elegant products, some “educational” tomes of the scholarly variety, but most of the items featured red covers and lurid images.

“Jack, what the ....” Ianto sort of asked, taking in the sheer volume of items.

He heard Jack sigh, then give a sort of resigned chuckle, his breath warm on Ianto’s neck.  He hadn’t even realized he’d done it until he felt Jack nuzzle at his skin, but clearly Ianto had leaned back into that breath, into the warmth Jack brought to his life.

Turning his head, Ianto found Jack’s lips with his own.  It’s gentle and sensual and everything every kiss he’s shared with Jack has even been:  something he never even knew his being needed.

When the awkwardness of their position calls for relief, Ianto helps Jack add Owen’s gift to the cupboard, then turns around to lean against the bizarre collection, a raised eyebrow asking Jack for an explanation.

A weary smile on his face, Jack does so:  the Kama Sutra has proven to be the “go-to” gift for Jack since forever.

Smirking, Ianto laughs, “bet you could add a few things to the Kama Sutra, Jack.  Although maybe the Kama Sutra isn’t ready for you.”

“I _AM_ kind of a fifty-first century guy.”  And the twinkle is back, along with every iota of Jackitude and charm.

“An acquired taste,” Ianto says with the air of a sommelier – or a connoisseur.

“But once you get a taste, you’re hooked, right?”

“Oh, I think there were a few more steps to the process, Jack.  I believe, for instance, that we both misplaced a few items of clothing before I really got a _taste_ of you.”

Jack, pushing Ianto up against the cabinet, laughs. “Ah, good times.”  His fingers get to work on the buttons of Ianto’s waistcoat.

On Jack’s hips, Ianto works his hands, pulling out the blue shirttails and sliding underneath to the warm skin he can’t get enough of touching, caressing.  Pulling Jack flush against him, he does what he always wants to do to Jack - even when he’s pissed off at him - and licks what skin he can, tasting, savouring.

Jack’s neck  - a hint of aftershave at first.  Oh, but underneath, it’s all Jack and the vibrations Jack is making as he moans under Ianto’s mouth. 

In a patented Jack Harkness move, Ianto finds his head grasped between Jack’s hands, his tongue deep in Jack’s mouth.  Not that he’s complaining.

God, do they teach kissing at school in the future?  Or is Jack a self-taught master?  Ianto gives himself over to the lesson, his body vibrating at some exquisite vibration only Jack elicits.  It’s pleasure to the nth degree and he has no doubt they are both addicted to it.  Thank god he never has to worry about losing the source of his drug, let alone someone creating a rehab facility for him.

One of Jack’s hands is in his pants, the other quickly following south and before Ianto knows it, his trousers are on the floor along with his lover.  Shit, maybe they taught all things carnal in fifty-first century schools.  He’s sweating, panting betweens moans as Jack’s mouth and tongue, not to mention his palate and throat, work towards getting a taste of Ianto.

And then Jack backs off.  The fucker backs off, placing soft kisses along Ianto’s legs and lower abdomen, just JUST when Ianto is close to giving Jack all the flavour he could ever want.

Grabbing him by the hair, Ianto tugs Jack’s head up none too gently.  Jack looks up at him, as innocent as he could be with lips swollen from his ministrations, not to mention a slick of Ianto’s precum glistening on his cheek. 

Before Ianto can grunt out an order to get back to the task at hand, or even a threat to withhold sex (ha!) or coffee, Jack smirks and asks, “Are we going for endurance or number of times here?”

What?  _What_?  This was no time for games!  He was _so_ close.  Oh, Jack was evil, fifty-first century evil in a pretty, pretty package (not to mention with a pretty package).  As he stared down at Jack, panting, a filament of memory wound its way through Ianto’s brain, pulling up some stupendous memories of other times Jack had gotten playful.  And faster than an email you hit “send” on by accident, Ianto and his cock are primed and ready again for whatever Jack has in mind.  Forgiveness could be that easy, sometimes.

“Both?” he answers, in the voice of someone on the edge, a voice Jack can take pride in being the only one to ever have heard since he was the causative factor.

“Mr. Jones, you are a man after my own heart,” Jack replies, keeping a firmish grasp on Ianto’s cock, flicking his tongue out to catch the drop pearled on the head and threatening to escape his mouth for the floor.  “Now hand me a couple of those Kama Sutra books.  The thick ones.”

“What?!!? Jack, don’t stop.  DO NOT STOP.  You’re doing fine.  You can look up pointers later.”  And, yes, Ianto knows he is pleading.  As if Jack would ever need pointers on sucking cock.

“Or I could just stop now,” is Jack’s ridiculous reply.

Ianto’s derisive snort is all the response that merits.

“You have a point,” Jack acknowledges.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Ianto is proud of himself for this riposte, especially as his brain isn’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the moment, blood flow being directed elsewhere.

“Shut up and hand me the books so I can get back to sucking every drop of Iantoness out of you.”

So Ianto turns, fumbles around in the closet behind him for the books, not at all helped by the kisses Jack is dropping all over his rear and nearly yelping when Jack’s tongue makes egress between his ass cheeks.

“Ianto, hurry, my knees are killing .....,” Jack whines.

 Books fall out of the cupboard, one boinking Ianto on the head.

By now he is laughing.  How many guys had work experiences like this to look back on?  Grabbing a huge coffee table edition, an equally impressive sort of scrapbook-sized version, and a couple T-shirts sporting Jack-appropriate filthy slogans, Ianto turns back around with their sex aids, nearly smacking Jack in the head with his dick as he does so.

And Ianto laughs even harder, as Jack ducks backwards, groaning.

“Here I am trying to give my employees great work benefits and all I get is laughter and nearly swiped by an erection!  And to top it off, I might not be able to die, but this floor is killing my knees!”

Pretty much howling by now, Ianto manages to get out, “It’s just .... I was hearing my mam say “You’ll put someone’s eye out with that thing!””

Aghast, Jack sputters, “Please tell me she wasn’t talking about the same “thing!””

“Nah, I had a toy helicopter.  Propellers, you get the idea.”

“I, I’m trying to focus here, Ianto.  Now give me that stuff so I can get back to making one of my favourite employees happy.  Jeez.”  And sliding the books under his knees, Jack sighs in relief as he adds the T-shirts as cushioning to his makeshift fellatio-bench.

“My apologies, Jack.  Do continue.  I am ready to enjoy your prowess in all things “thing” related.”

“Shut up, Ianto.  I can’t answer you – my mouth is full.”

****

****


End file.
